


Treasures

by WahlBuilder



Series: 30 days of rarepairs [10]
Category: The Technomancer (Video Game)
Genre: Falling In Love, Gen, Showing Off
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-05-23 15:00:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14936508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WahlBuilder/pseuds/WahlBuilder
Summary: Melvin is summoned to a meeting with the Prince, but it's not what he thinks.





	Treasures

Melvin wasn’t vain, but he had spent in front of a mirror what felt like hours, picking at his jacket, tweaking wires, worrying that he should have went to a merchant and bought or rented more appropriate clothes.

He wasn’t vain, but he had to look perfect—for he had a Mission. It was important, yes, but, frankly, he would have rather taken on a mole queen with a pack all by himself. Not because he wasn’t looking forward to his task, but because he was worried and anxious and…

He removed Fluid vials from the straps on his left shoulder for the fourth time, then put them back again with trembling fingers. He was generating so much static his hair was standing on ends.

Ridiculous.

He was ruining it before everything even started.

He had to look his absolute best, because this? This was _diplomacy_. And it wasn’t some Army idiot whom Ian, Shadow rest him, could manipulate easier than a spark.

It was the Merchant Prince Dandolo.

It was probably the most important mission in Melvin’s life.

Oh, the Prince was an exquisite. The best clothes, tightly cut in some places and loose in others, richly dyed fabric, and those lines on his ear and his chin and under one light-green eye…

The way he could ruin a life with one word—or save it with half a smile.

Melvin shook his head.

He was rather plain himself, but he could only do his best and nobody would ask more of him. He had to, for his family. They were in Noctis by the Prince’s grace and kindness, and Dandolo was risking everything by providing them a sanctuary. It wouldn’t last, but Melvin had to make sure it would be good while it lasted. He had to do it because he sort of brought it upon himself, taking the duty of making everyone settle comfortably. Zachariah’s burden was great enough even without such matters. Besides, they owed their comfort to the Prince while stationed in his palace.

It was only proper, to work on building the relationship between the refugee Technomancers and the powerful man who’d built Noctis and made it what it was.

Melvin looked at himself again.

“You fret too much, brother,” Sam said from the entrance to his room. To have his own room that he didn’t have to share with anyone was strange, a luxury, but sometimes he rather liked it.

“I am the liaison between us and the travelling merchants of Noctis, I have to look the part,” he called over his shoulder and finally decided to go without Fluid vials. Reluctantly, he left his staff by the bed, too. He couldn’t bring weapons to the meeting, could he? It would be… impolite.

“You mean, between us and the Prince?” She stepped into the room and dusted his back. “I think if you were in rags and dirt, he would be glad to meet with you anyway.”

“Don’t know what you mean,” Melvin grumbled. That made no sense. He had dignity and the Prince had his sense of style and… everything that made him the man he was.

Exquisite.

And Melvin couldn’t even tell names of different shades of blue.

“You’ll be fine, it’s just a walk around Noctis. Maybe with a throng of guards.”

Melvin sighed. “Fretful or not, I have to do it. If he buries me under some cliff, tell Zach I’m proud of him.”

She laughed and patted his shoulder. “Tell him yourself, brother.”

 

Despite her predictions, there were no guards. Melvin tried to find a reason for it (a demonstration of power, a demonstration of safety of Noctis, overconfidence, desire to have privacy), but his head started hurting. Politics were a strange, terrifying beast that he would only confront if it were absolutely necessary. Besides, if anything happened, he was more than enough to protect himself and (or) the Prince, staff or not.

And the Prince, Melvin thought, was more than enough to scare away any wrong-meaning thug. It was some trick, it must have been: the Prince dressed as any well-to-do merchant in Noctis, no more, no less, but there was some radiance about him, some regal air that estrangered him slightly but at the same time did not make people around him feel inferior.

And Melvin was a simple soldier.

And, all right, he was staring when he was admitted into the Prince’s chambers. There was a lot to stare at: the leather of the collar, showing just a bit of collarbones; polished bracelets keeping voluminous sleeves in place; the jacket stretched tight over broad chest; the blue hem of an undershirt just peeking from under the jacket. The black lines on his chin, leading up to—

“Master Melvin,” the Prince called, and Melvin shook himself.

“It’s ‘Major’,” he said and instantly regretted it, because the Prince’s face went still for a fraction of a moment.

Then the Prince tilted his head to his shoulder, reminding Melvin of hounds. “You are not a part of the military anymore, are you,” the Prince noted.

“No. No, but it is… I’m more used to it.”

“While ‘Master’ is something only your flock uses.”

He nodded.

“Just like your jacket,” the Prince continued. “You still wear it not only because it’s practical, but because it reminds you of who you are.”

That was… a lot more perceptive than Melvin expected, and he looked up into the green eyes. There was something in them, something strange. “A refugee, now,” Melvin said.

He was watching the Prince so intently that he didn’t miss how those strange eyes warmed. “You will find your place. One step at a time. But if not ‘Master’ and, forgive me this indulgence, not ‘Major’, then may I call you simply by your name?”

Something was crackling near his ear, and he hoped with all his heart that his hair wasn’t standing up. “Yes. Yes, it’s all right.”

The Prince smiled, and it was not the grand smile of the Noctis’s patron, but something smaller, more… intimate. “Then I must insist that you drop the ‘Prince’, too. I am just a merchant, my friend, albeit a very lucky one.”

That was an understatement, but Melvin couldn’t worry about it, not when the Prince—Dandolo—was smiling so…

The Mission. Right.

Melvin coughed and wished he had brought his staff, to grip it. “What do you want to discuss? I will relay any of your missives to Zachariah when he returns.”

Dandolo laughed. He had a nice laugh, deep in his throat. By the Shadows, Melvin had to get his head checked. “Not business, my friend. I wanted to show you something, and though it’s quite a walk, your attire appears to be perfect.”

As Melvin tried to decide whether he’d been complimented for his thoughtfulness or for his looks, he found himself taken by the elbow and led down the twin stairs away from the sweet scents of Dandolo’s chambers.

A number of courtiers flittered to their Prince, and for each he found a nod or a smile or a word, but continued across the hall to the main doors, Melvin unable to do anything but follow.

He felt rather struck on the head.

Even when they left through the small door, there was a slight earthy and sweet scent, and Melvin realised it was trailing after the Prince.

He couldn’t get enough of it.

The Prince left his arm and flew down the wide stairs, light as air, and on the first landing turned and waved. “Melvin!”

He shook himself again and tried not to trip over his legs on his way down. He thought they would go to the ground level, but the Prince turned on the landing and went to the boulder overhang.

Melvin hurried after him, confused, and looking over the rock to find whatever the Prince wanted to show him. The Prince started climbing up a ladder with unexpected agility--but then Melvin reminded himself that the Prince wasn’t all about indulgent sprawl on soft cushions.

He had an entirely inappropriate image of Dandolo prancing around in a pirate garb and hijacking caravans of his rivals. Judging by the rumours, it was exactly what had happened. Probably continued to happen.

The climb brought them to the level of the first floor of the palace, but separated from it by rock. The Prince’s eyes were bright when he looked at his city, full of lights and life and laughter. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” The Prince rarely talked in loud voice, but his varied cadences, his magnetism commanded attention.

“Yes,” Melvin said without tearing his gaze away from the Prince. “Beautiful.”

The Prince blinked and shook his head, then turned to Melvin. “How are your climbing skills, Melvin?”

“As in, rock-climbing?”

“Yes.”

Melvin started feeling hot under his jacket, even though it was only barely the end of night. “I am not a professional, Pr… Dandolo.”

Dandolo laughed, and Melvin felt eased by the sound. “I won’t ask you to scale the canyon, my friend. But it might be… rough. Let us go, then?”

Melvin nodded. He wouldn’t have said no even under a nailrifle.

It wasn’t easy.

The Technomancer wasn’t made for such activities, his boots too heavy and insulated, but, guided by Dandolo, he found purchase and pushed himself after him.

Dandolo himself made climbing unworked rock look so easy, twisting and finding the finest holes in which to wedge a toe in soft shoes, gripping what looked like a smooth wall. Calling to Melvin without even looking, as though he had eyes on the back of his head, as though he was a part of the Labyrinth.

Melvin wondered why Dandolo didn’t go with him but choose steeper ground, sheer vertical walls.

It almost looked like… he was showing off.

Melvin tried not to think about that, because why would Dandolo show off to him?

They moved away from the lights of the hidden city and Melvin could barely see the rocks he was stepping on, but still Dandolo was guiding him with his voice, precise and somewhere nearby.

Melvin wondered whether he was dreaming

He slipped on a rock and didn’t have the time to cry out—but then his arm was gripped. “Hold on! It’s all right.”

Heart beating in his throat, he scrambled to his feet, tiny sparks running over his jacket, his chest heavy. In the twilight, Dandolo’s outline was more solid than the surrounding rock, and Melvin leaned to him without thinking.

“Are you all— Ow!” A spark flew between them, and Dandolo shook his hand.

Melvin took control of his charge and murmured, “Sorry, sorry…” He caught the Prince’s hands. He had calloused, rough hands, dry like sand, with a dimple on the base of the left palm.

“It’s all right,” Dandolo murmured, and he was too close, and a rock was digging into Melvin’s calf, and frankly, he didn’t want to move anywhere.

He had to, however.

Reluctantly, he let go of Dandolo’s hands, grateful that it was dark enough that Dandolo wouldn’t see the expression on his face. “Shall we continue?”

Dandolo didn’t move for a few moments, then said in a weirdly flat voice, “Yes. We shall. It’s not long now.”

Melvin followed him until they stepped onto a flat platform, and in the twilight he could barely see a yawning entrance to a cave of sorts. Dandolo walked right to it and into it, and Melvin followed, puzzled as ever. What could it be? A secret stash? A meeting place? Was Dandolo luring him into a trap?

 _Paranoia is healthy, but this is getting ridiculous_ , he reprimanded himself. The Prince had multitude of ways to eliminate the Technomancers, he didn’t have to go to such lengths to do it.

The floor under Melvin’s feet was rock, but not covered with a layer of sand. It seems the cave was protected from storms, although Melvin couldn’t tell how. He heard more than saw Dandolo moving in the cave. It was warm, the rock conserving heat of the day—meaning, the rock wasn’t that far from the surface.

There was a tap, and purple light started glowing in the cave, held in Dandolo’s hand. It was round, and the Prince raised it, looking around.

The light ball in Dandolo’s hand was moving tiny tendrils, wrapping them around Dandolo’s wrist. Melvin felt a little prickle of panic. “What is it?”

The Prince hummed, then looked up at the light. “Oh, this? Canyon berry.”

“Is it alive?” Melvin asked, watching in horror as it rubbed the tendrils over Dandolo’s wrist. The tendrils had little hairs on them.

“Mhm, in a way. It’s a ‘living rock’. You can ask zoologist friend for more. They only appear in the Labyrinth.” He looked at Melvin and chuckled. “Don’t worry. It’s not dangerous. You can touch it.”

What Melvin wanted to do was to tear the damn thing away from Dandolo’s wrist. _Come on, Melvin, you are a Master Technomancer, what are you afraid of?_

Dandolo seemed in no hurry, standing there with the glowing, pulsating purple thing as Melvin mulled it over. “I don’t want to hurt it,” he said at last. “With, you know…”

“Your sparkly fingers.”

Melvin nodded, feeling rather like a cadet again having a painful crush on Master Ian. _Sparkly fingers._

Dandolo smiled, something gentle appearing in his eyes again. “You won’t hurt it. Don’t worry, Melvin.”

He hesitated anyway. The light was a living thing, pulsating unevenly, like shuddering breathing. Melvin reached out to it, and a few tendrils turned toward his palm, touching his skin softly. He smiled and glanced at Dandolo. “Tickles.”

Dandolo chuckled again. “It does, a little. Hold it for me, please?” He dropped the rock into Melvin’s hand. It was light and dry and slightly porous and a bit warm, from Dandolo’s hand or the strange light, Melvin couldn’t say. He held up the glowing rock, but the light was barely enough to illuminate the cave. It was rather big, enough to shelter a rover, though the opening wouldn’t have allowed a rover to enter without chipping the rock away.

The cave was empty save for a black contraption on a thick pedestal. The contraption looked out of this world to Melvin’s eye: a huge ovoid with a lot of circles of various sizes all over its surface. Was it a Colonist tech? It made sense now that Dandolo wanted to show it to him.

Dandolo crouched by the pedestal, reaching into it, and that made Melvin open his mouth because, really, tampering with unknown tech? But then there was a flick, and Dandolo’s face brightened, he jumped to his feet, light as an ostrich, and hurried to Melvin.

“Sit down, sit down!”

Melvin, astonished, folded his legs under himself, and Dandolo flopped very unprince-like on the floor, then jumped back to his feet, run to a dark corner of the cave, and returned quickly with a bundle in his arms. The bundle turned out to be a carpet and a couple of thick cushions, so out of place away from the Palace, but Dandolo dropped them onto the floor and pulled Melvin to sit on one, then reached for the glowing rock that was already tickling Melvin’s wrist and shook it.

The light went out.

Melvin shifted, stiff and very much confused. “Dandolo?..”

“Shh. Look!”

He wondered what he was supposed to look at in the darkness of the cave—and then he saw it.

In the darkness, little sparks were coming to life, small but many, more and more with every moment, and then an arc of them over their heads. They glimmered and flickered until the darkness was filled with them.

Melvin couldn’t find words, couldn’t even find his breath, and his eyes filled with tears.

“Do you like it?” Incredible, but Dandolo sounded uncertain.

Melvin gasped as his body reminded him he needed to breathe, and he croaked, “I love it! Really!” He turned to the Prince and realised how close they were, again. How sweet the Prince was, surrounded by perfume.

Melvin couldn’t quite see his eyes, but he could swear he could hear a smile in Dandolo’s voice when the Prince said, “I’m glad. Caravans usually move as fast as possible, and often along the Shadow Paths or down canyons, so you can’t really enjoy the view of the sky, and you can’t see much down here in Noctis… When I can’t go out onto the plains, I come here.”

“It’s a planetarium, isn’t it?” Melvin glanced at the ovoid contraption.

“It is. One day I might tell you a story of how I got it, if you want to listen… Oh! Nearly forgot.” Dandolo moved—Melvin felt it keenly in the darkness with scattered stars—and then his shoulders were covered by another carpet.

And it was only logical that Dandolo would move even closer to him, to share the cover, inclining onto him. “This is what I wanted to share with you,” Dandolo murmured.

Melvin allowed himself to incline towards Dandolo, too. The Prince was warm and sweet and very human.


End file.
